Sex? Sure, why not?
by The Original Amareaux
Summary: After being attacked by a demon, Dean starts having very... special problems. Problems that Winny, his and Sam's hunting pal, can help him with. Smutty-smut-smut all over the place. Dean!OC. Just written for fun. Set before Bobby's house went bye-bye.


No Beta, all mistakes are my own.

* * *

I sat in the back with Dean, his head cradled in my lap.

"What the hell did those fucking demons get him with?" Sam asked, his tone controlled, but I could hear the panic in his voice.

"I don't know. They shot him in the neck with a needle, and then he dropped." I pressed my fingers to his throat, checking his pulse for the hundredth time. It was strong, beating at a steady, rhythmic pace. It didn't feel weird, and his breathing was fine. I didn't understand why he wasn't waking up.

I gently raked my fingers through his hair, not even feeling a drop of sweat, or a rise of a fever. He seemed completely healthy, like he was taking a good, deep nap.

"Why won't he wake up?"

"I don't know, Sam, but maybe we should stop somewhere. Concentrate on waking him up."

"Okay, yeah," Sam nodded, vigorously.

No more than ten minutes later, we pulled into a motel and I checked us in. Sam reached in and pulled his brother out. We put him between us as we dragged him to the rented room.

"On the bed," Sam said, maneuvering Dean to the closest queen size.

"What are we going to do?" I asked, trying to gently lay him down on his back.

"There's a hex expert close by. I'll go to him and get some answers."

"What if it's not a hex?"

"What else could it be? He's physically fine, but he won't wake up."

"You don't think he's..." I trailed, not wanting to finish the thought. Sam shook his head, defiantly, seeming to think the same way as me.

"Just stay put. Call me if he wakes up."

"Yeah. Call me if you get answers."

We exchanged worried looks before he took off out the door. I followed him to it, locking it behind him. Going back to Dean, I pulled his boots off, then eyed his jacket. That would be quite a bit harder. The man was solid muscle, and dwarfed me by almost a foot. He easily outweighed me, so sitting him up to pull his coat off without dislocating a limb on either him or me was near impossible.

I checked his pulse and breathing one more time, finding nothing had changed.

"C'mon, Dean. Wake up," I said, running my hand though his hair, again. "Please, just open your eyes."

A quiet, deep mumble came from his mouth, Dean's brow crushing together.

"Dean?" I asked, hopefully. "Dean? You alive?"

"Yeah," he responded, his voice cracking. He cleared his throat before he said, again, "Yeah."

"Oh my god, Winchester!" I cried with happiness. "You almost scared me to death!" For the first time, I suppressed the urge to punch him. Hell, I could have kissed him!

"I thought I was dead," he muttered, cracking open one eyes to look up at me.

"I have to call Sam. He'll be happy you-"

Dean's body suddenly jerked, like I did punch him, square in the gut. Confusion crushed his features, his body jerking, again.

"Dean?" I gasped, but jumped back when he whipped up to a sitting position, his arms wrapped around his stomach.

"Oh shit," he whispered, his eyes darting to his lap, then around the room. "Shit!" He gave little warning before he leaped off the bed on unsure legs and barreled to the bathroom.

"What's wrong? Dean?" I followed him until he slammed the door in my face. "Hey! Talk to me!"

"Can you just... give me a minute? Wait outside or something!" The urgency in his voice was tangible, and so was the strain. From what, I had no idea.

"I'm not going anywhere, Winchester. You need to tell me what the hell is wrong. Maybe I can help-"

"No! Winter, please, just..." Dean let out a sharp grunt, making panic well up in my throat.

Putting my shoulder into the flimsy door, it gave, swinging open with a loud bang. I stumbled in, but froze mid-step when I saw Dean sitting on the edge of the yellowed tub/shower combo on the far side of the small room. He stopped moving, his pants and boxers around his ankles, and his hand tight around his...

"Dean, do you really think this is the time for that?!" I demanded.

Panic widened his eyes, his head shaking back and forth. Quickly, he grabbed a bleached-white towel from a bar next to the sink and flopped it onto his lap, obscuring the view.

"I told you not to come in!" he bellowed at me.

"You just woke up from a mini-coma, and the first thing you do is jerk off in the bathroom?!"

Blood dripped from his nose, his face turning a little pale.

"Dean?" I asked, taking a step toward him.

"I don't know what's going on..." he let out another grunt like he was in pain. He stared at the wall next to him, too embarrassed to make eye contact. "It's... it's like a... a rock, and it won't go away. It fucking hurts."

"Do you think it's because of that stuff that demon shot you up with?"

"I don't know," he said, gritting his teeth. "But can we talk about it after it's relaxed?"

I sighed, grabbing some toilet paper and touching it to the blood still dripping from his nose.

"Okay. Just... yell if something else happens."

Standing, I left the room, pulling the now broken door closed behind me. Going to the other side of the motel room, I sat at the tiny kitchen area and focused a tad too hard on the worn, round table top. I tried my best to not imagine what he was doing in there, but I couldn't help myself. Only myself and Sam knew the small crush I harbored for Dean. There were multiple times Sam caught me staring at Dean like a love-sick high school girl. Luckily, I was good enough at hiding it from Dean. He thought we were just hunting partners, part of the family. He didn't know I was ridiculously in love with his stupid ass.

A faint, pained groan came from the bathroom, shooting up my worry meter. And possibly made the space between my legs heat a little. It was stupid, knowing he had been poisoned or cursed, and I was getting turned on by the sounds he was making because of it. I couldn't help it. The sight that greeted me when I practically knocked down the door was burned into my mind. I had never seen him... standing at attention, before, though I had seen my fair share when it was time to stitch up the boys after a few rough hunts. But seriously, damn, I didn't know-

"Son of a bitch!" he yelled, making me leap from my chair.

I walked, wearily, back to the bathroom door, giving it a soft knock. "Please, tell me you're done."

"No, it's... it's still there," he said.

"Do you... uh... need any help?"

There was only silence. Shit. I suddenly decided it was time to do a swan dive off the nearest tall building.

"Dean?" I asked, cautiously. When there was still no answer, I carefully creaked the door open, mostly to check to see if he was still alive. I gasped when I saw a second line of blood dripping from the other side of his nose. There was even blood coming from his ears to match. He looked even more pale than I had left him.

"Shit, Dean!" I quickly grabbed more tissue, mopping up his nose and then his ears. But it was no use. The blood just kept coming. "We have to call Sam."

"What's he going to do? Give me a blowjob?" he snapped, half hearted.

"No, but..." I really shouldn't say it... "I could."

Great, I said it. Congrats, you officially made everything worse.

His eyes locked on mine, and for a moment, I thought was going to start yelling, calling me disgusting, that he would never do something like that with me. That I was crazy. Insane. Ridiculous. Not in a million years.

He said nothing, only stared at me. I saw his jaw work, pain lancing through his body. He let out a growl of anger, then nodded, moving his sharp gaze at the wall next to him.

"Just, make it quick," he said through gritted teeth.

I nodded back, taking a deep breath. This was just a job. I was helping Dean. Like when I would stitch his wounds, or help him with his bandages. This was the same thing. If he didn't... I was certain he was going to bleed out from his nose and ears.

Carefully moving to my knees, I looked up at Dean to silently ask his permission to remove the towel. His head was turned away, his eyes closed. I guess that was as good of an 'okay' as any. If I just made it quick, he would get better. Or I hoped. For all I knew, he would just continue to bleed, but at least he would be satisfied. If I could do it.

No, I couldn't think like that. I just had to do it and get it over with.

"Okay, just stay still," I said, pulling my white-blond hair up into a pony tail.

"Hurry up, before I come to my senses," he grunted.

Pealing the towel away, I bit my lip at the sight of him. He looked strained, almost swollen. Anyone could tell he needed relief and bad.

Pushing myself into action, before I chickened out, I gripped the base of him and licked my lips. He moaned inside his tightly closed mouth, his hands gripping the edges of the tub.

In one swoop, I plunged him deep in my mouth, trying to fit as much as I could until I felt my gag reflex threatening to make this situation even worse. Shoving the feeling aside, I gently sucked and whirled my tongue around underneath. I could taste the slight touch of salt on his soft skin, his shaft throbbing with heat.

Dean gasped, then let out a loud, drawn-out groan. The sound egged me on, so I began pumping him with my mouth. His bare leg tensed under my hand, shaking with the need for release. Dean's breath came in heavy pants. I stole a look up at him, seeing his head tipped back, his neck exposed. His knuckled were white from gripping the tub so tightly.

"Winny, I'm-"

With one more strong stroke of my tongue, a quick, strong gush erupted from him and into the back of my mouth. I coughed once, but suppressed the urge to have a full-blown coughing fit and rode him out until his hips stopped jerking and his legs relaxed. Carefully, I sat back and turned to the toilet to my right. Opening it, I spit the mouthful of him inside and flicked the handle to flush it away.

I hesitantly looked up at Dean. He was breathing heavily, his eyes still closed.

Panic tore its way back into my chest, so to distract myself, I picked back up the toilet paper and began to dab it at his ear. Dean jerked away, turning to look up at me for a split second before he looked anywhere but at me.

"I got it. I'm feeling... I'm fine."

"Okay," I said, almost as a whisper. I dropped it into his open hand and practically bolted from the room.

Holy crap. I just gave Dean Winchester head. I just got him off. It was like I should have felt something good or happy about it, but all it felt was empty. Like I had taken advantage of him.

Now I really wanted that tall building.

A loud knock on the door practically scared me out of my skin.

"Winny? Hey, open up! It's Sam."

"Y-yeah!" I sputtered, then hurried to the door, unlocking it and pulling it open.

* * *

Three days went by without Dean and I making less conversation than a pair of mimes. When I walked into a room, Dean almost promptly walked out, and vice versa.

It was beyond painful when we had to ride in the Impala together. Being stuck in a small space together was like torture.

I knew he didn't want to have to resort to me 'helping' him, but it was life or death. Not how I wanted to have my first sexual encounter with him. And poor Sam, have no idea what was going on. Dean and I didn't breathe a word of it to him, only told him about waking up and all of the gross bleeding. We all chalked it up to a failed attempt at killing Dean.

If only.

We were making our way back to Bobby's, on a mini vacation. Getting away from Dean for an extended period of time, and especially getting my own room after so long, was going to do us both good. And I think Sam wanted to be able to take a break from my and Dean's avoidance issues.

Dean pulled the Impala into a run-down motel called 'Stay 'n' Sleep', dropping Sam off at the main building to check us in. I almost leaped out after him, but that might raise some flags and queue a lot of unwanted questions from Sam.

I waited quietly with Dean, and thankfully, Sam didn't take long. We went to our room, and got ready for some rest. Well, Sam and I did. Dean ducked out after mumbling something along the lines of 'drink' and 'bar'. I didn't blame him.

* * *

A hand on my shoulder gently shook me awake.

"Wh-mmf?" My eyes sprung open to see Dean kneeling next to my bed. He had his finger against his lips, but his face was shadowed. Puling his hand away from my mouth, I whispered, "Dean, what are you doing?"

"Come outside?" he asked, hesitantly.

Seriously?

"Er, okay..."

I slowly pulled the blankets away and climbed out of bed. Without putting my shoes on, I followed Dean out the still slightly open door. I watched as he carefully closed it behind him.

"Dean, what is this about?"

When he turned around, I saw the trail of blood leaking from his nose, along with a few smudges from where he had tried to wipe it away.

"Oh, no," I whispered.

He wiped away the blood, again, only for another drop to fall, renewing the path the earlier ones made.

"Yeah, 'oh no' is right."

"Please tell me you got into a bar fight."

"Would I have got you up if it was just a bar fight?" he asked, shooting me an annoyed glare.

"How long have you been bleeding?" I asked, having the urge to get him fresh toilet paper for his nose.

"Ten minutes. I had... I tried to get with this girl from the bar, and everything was going good, but then my nose... and she freaked out and kicked me out."

"So, it's the same, um, symptoms as last time?"

"Yeah," he nodded, touching the tissue to his nose, again.

"Okay, well, what should we do?" I asked, the air around us thickening with awkwardness. "Sam is back in the motel room."

"Uh, well..." Dean looked at me, then around until his eyes landed on the Impala. He nodded to it, then turned back to me. "I mean, if you want to, this time. Whatever this is that's happening to me is moving slower than last time."

"But we know where you'll end up if you don't... you know..."

"Yeah, I know," he agreed, heavily.

"C'mon," I said, taking his hand and leading him to the back passenger door. He climbed in first, then I followed, pulling the door closed behind me.

"I don't know how you want to do this," he admitted, looking as uncomfortable as I did.

"Um, just... undo your pants and lean on the door?"

Nodding, he did as asked, leaning on the door before he unzipped and went to pull himself free. I stopped him, diving in head first before I could back out. Gingerly, I slid down the front of his boxers. It didn't take too much effort, since he was standing at a hard attention and peaking out from the top of the waistband.

I heard a thud, making me look up. Dean had dropped his head back, resting it against the glass with his eyes closed.

I went to work, and tried my best to make it quick.

Ten minutes later, Dean huffed, pulling me off him.

"It's not working," he said. "It feels good, but it's not... it's not enough."

"I was trying my best," I said, a bit indignantly. My self esteem took a bit of a hit from Dean's inability to get off with just my mouth.

"I know," he said. "It's not you."

"So, you think more stimulation would work?"

He looked a little scared when he asked, "Like what?"

I didn't hesitate when I leaned up, kissing his lips. Dean took in a sharp breath. It was a brief kiss, a simple one, but Dean's eyes lit up like fire.

"Yeah, I think that works," he nodded. His hands cupped my face, pulling me back to him. His tongue slipped between my teeth and slid against mine. I could taste the subtle tequila on his breath. My heart leaped into my throat once my mind caught up with our actions. I was kissing Dean. And he was kissing me back.

This was going to be the death of me.

His hands explored into my hair as mine found their way up his shirt. I began to stop caring that he was bleeding from his nose. I began to stop caring that this was all because of something a demon did to him. That he didn't want me like this for real, it was all just chemical. I was the easiest way to get off. I was a tool for him to calm what was wrong with him.

And right at that moment, I couldn't give a shit about any of it.

Dean's hands reached for my waist, lifting me to straddle his lap. I could feel his hardness against my softness so well that I might as well not been wearing my pajama shorts. I couldn't help grinding against him, gasping when he angled his hips up to meet mine.

"Can I?" he panted. "Winny."

I nodded. I would've agreed to just about anything he wanted, just as long as he kept touching me.

Rushed and awkwardly, he helped me shed my shorts, leaving them to hang off my foot that was poised for balance on the floor. I gasped when his fingers slid into me, my whole body arching forward. My hand gripped his shoulder, the other pressed to the low ceiling. My body was on fire as he worked me from below.

Dean wrapped his arm around my waist, earning a small squeak of surprise from me. I was on my back, my shirt up and his hand against my breast, teasing my nipple. Dipping down, he kissed along the valley of my chest, then back up to my neck. Both of our breathing came out hard, excited, with such need that I felt like I would explode.

"Winny-" Dean whispered, hesitantly.

"Shut up," I snapped, pulling his lips to mine. Reaching between us, I angled him to me, brushing his tip against my opening. He didn't hesitate to thrust his hips forward, sinking into me with one stroke. I moaned, almost screamed, my hands in his hair and his breath across my cheek.

Picking up a sinful rhythm, we were swept up in the heat, touch, we were tangled up in each other. I was on Cloud 9.

I didn't know how long we were molded against each other, writhing and groping, unable to stop, not wanting to stop. It felt like forever. A bliss-filled eternity.

My body tensed, my release hitting me like a brick. I cried out, just as Dean tucked his head against the bend of my neck, letting out his own strangled groan. He laid over me, his panting matching mine. My whole body was buzzing from an orgasm I had never knew I could have. Sure, I'd had one, before, but this... this was something else.

Dean lifted his head, connecting his gaze to mine. His eyes were wide, panicked.

"What?" I asked, my heart dropping a little. The tingly fun sensation was gone.

"We didn't... have protection..."

I smiled, laughing a little. "You've picked up my birth control for me, before, remember?"

His panic subsided a little, but then the uncomfortable air settled in.

Carefully, he slid out of me, making me whimper a little. His eyes were suddenly wide, again.

"Did I hurt you?" he asked, quickly. I shook my head.

"No, just sensitive," I said. Reaching for my shorts while I also adjusted my shirt back into place, I slid them on. "Are you... okay?"

I glanced at him just as he was finishing buckling his belt. He nodded, his eyes cast down.

"I'm sorry," he said, his voice rough. He scrubbed his hand underneath his nose, probably checking for more blood. From what it looked like, it had stopped.

"Don't be," I said, shrugging. I felt proud of myself for acting so nonchalant.

"This is just so fucked up. I don't understand why we need to... do this. I'm a piece of shit for using you-"

"Seriously, Dean?" I scoffed. He glanced at me, surprised. "Using me? I volunteered, if you recall. And it worked. We didn't go get matching his-and-hers tattoos. We had sex. No big whoop." He gawked at me for a moment, making me roll my eyes.

"Well, hopefully, that's the last of the bleeding," he said.

"If it's not, don't be shy in asking for help," I said. "I think you get the hint that I'm fine with helping."

He nodded, looking toward the motel room door. "Um, we should probably head inside. I need a shower," he said, gesturing to his blood-smeared nose. "And, er, you probably need one, too."

I touched my face, feeling the bits of dried blood on my face.

"Oh. Yeah, I should probably get cleaned up, too."


End file.
